


Double Blind

by KendylGirl



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Angst, Displaced Anger, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Film Premieres, Lily-Rose Depp/Joel Edgerton are a couple, M/M, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-27 05:49:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendylGirl/pseuds/KendylGirl
Summary: Tim is finding it nearly impossible to navigate the maze of a busy career with public appearances, a pretend relationship with an extensive contract, and a true love with a man that always seems to be thousands of miles away.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has truly been a journey for me. An arduous, revealing, and ultimately rewarding journey.
> 
> It began as a fascinating and ingenious _what if_, planted by Ashleymoshow and cultivated by onlyastoryteller, about the possibility that Mr. Edgerton and Ms. Depp could be the object of the other's affection; this creativity was then harvested by my grubby hands in the form of this story. Is it true? _How should I know?_ I only write fiction, and I stake no claim on these individuals as real people. Who they really are and what they really do is a mystery that I shall never solve.
> 
> However, I _am_ absolutely certain that I could never have gotten this story to the point that I have without the kindness and patience of some amazing and wonderful people, ones to whom I am deeply indebted and forever devoted. ❤️

I hate this fucking couch, if you want to know the truth. It is the wretched color of gangrene, and it’s too low, and why is there no back? This isn’t a place where real people sit.The cushions are stiff, and it hurts to lay my head on its stripped arm. I fling my leg up and snap a couple of pictures.Whatever.If they’re blurry, all the better.

“You’re still here?”

I throw my legs down and tap at my screen. I don’t look up. 

“Seriously, we want to go out, so can you just…”

Her annoyance makes me click slower. Fuck her.Does she think _I’m_ having fun? “So the videos…that’s your end, yeah? This I’ll post just after.That’s the deal, right?”

I finally raise my head when she doesn’t answer. She’s in the doorway with her hip jutted to the side, head tipped back to her shoulder blades by the crushing weight of my apparent idiocy. Somehow, she still musters the strength to sigh.“We’ve been all through this.Check your fucking messages if you don’t remember the schedule.” Her head slumps toward me, pout intact.“Are we done here?”

I stand and throw my phone in a side pocket. “I wish.”

I brush by her, bat aside the fucking balloons still drooping in the archway, but before I can reach for the knob, I hear her huff. “Hey, you don’t have to be such an asshole to me, you know.”

“Hold up. I’m the asshole?”

“Yeah. You _suck_ at this, and it’s a pain in my ass. I mean, I thought you were a _professional_.” Air quotes. What planet am I on right now? And she leers at me with an eye roll that could sweep a mountain into the sea.

She’s not wrong. I _do_ suck at this. At the start, it seemed like any other job. She and I joked about it, tried to have fun with it, did stupid stuff like pretending our names were George and Francine so we could play up the awkwardness of it all as part of the gig, or making all of our “romantic whispers” in front of plate glass windows be lines from cartoons we’d watched as kids. And it worked, for a while.

But as the months wore on, everything stopped being funny. She missed Joel, or simply wanted to go out with some male friends without having to get a nasty phone call from the team when she was photographed with them. And I wanted Armie, just Armie, and if that wasn’t possible, I wanted to be left alone, to let the ache that filled me fold in on itself and harden until it became my sole companion, the only thing I had room for in the space he had left empty.

Resentment grows well in a garden made only of weeds.

“Maybe the real question is why you’re so _good_ at it. Ever think of that? Does he ever wonder what else you’re faking, sweetheart? Or is it too hard to have meaningful conversation when your mouth is full of dick?” Ice has never been my default.But then, I’ve hit a lot of lows lately I never thought I’d fall to, pinballed past all the markers I used to have for what I’d never do or say.

“You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

My laugh is like droplets of poison ionizing in the air. “Pithy.”

“Fuck you, you little bitch!” Her face flares, and she takes a quick step forward, and for a minute, I think she’s going to hit me. “Look, Joel and I never expected this to happen, but it did.”She jabs a manicured finger into her own chest. “He arrived with _me_ in Venice. We got there _together_, we stayed together, and you think I wanted to leave him to meet your skinny ass for a photoshoot in Capri? But I did it, and I _sold_ it, because Joel…because he _believes_ in me…because he—“

“Believes in your tits? Shocker.”

She waves her hand at me with a sneer. “He’s a real man.No wonder you can’t understand. You’ll never be like him.You _or_ your giant—“

“No.” It’s the growl of a beast. It’s a warning I doubt she’ll bother to heed. “You do not talk about him.You got what you wanted out of him. You got your fucking boost, you got to be in his movie, and he was a fucking _gentleman_ every step of the way. You do not say a single goddamn _word_ about him. Ever.”

Her eyes are black sludge. “Yeah?Ask Liz how much of a gentleman he is. Fucking pervert, more like.”

My hands become fists, my whole body bent by a fury that fills my mouth with blood, cuts off my air in a vacuum where souls explode from the internal pressure of a heart unchecked. “Shut up._Shut_. _Up_. You have no…no _idea_…no idea what…” My eyes have bleared, and I drive the heels of my hands over them, push my knuckles into the sockets, jam the throbbing veins back into my skull. I stagger slightly, feel like I’m having a stroke, feel like I’m going to scream until I melt through the floor.

After all he and I had been through, after all we’ve fought for, I’d reached my limit. Armie has taken all the vitriol he’s going to, even vicariously, and there’s no way I can stomach one more spoiled princess running him down to anyone, especially to me. I stumble a few steps and snatch at a pink balloon that bounces against the door frame. 

I dig my fingernails into it until it disappears into ribbons and a thunder clap.

“This is _done_.”

I slam the door behind me, tear down the hall, jab at the elevator’s Down button repeatedly even though it’s already lit. I’m shaky, nauseous._What in the hell is the matter with me?_ When the bell rings, I stumble onto the carriage and slump into the corner, swallow down bile as I watch the red numbers tick lower, marking my descent.

I feel like I’m in freefall, and I have no idea how to stop myself before I crash.

* * *

Armie and I agreed to this trainwreck last year. Apparently, Joel had talked to Nicole early on, brought her an outline, a few thoughts. I knew he and Lily were something, but I didn’t think anything about it.It didn’t involve me, and really, I’d thought they were kind of sweet together, sharing the small kind of intimacies that people do when they truly connect.

But he kept clapping me on the shoulder between takes, offering reassurances to me that I didn’t know I needed, a sad current swirling in his eyes whenever he approached me like he was embarrassed or apologetic about something, and at first I thought he’d regretted trusting me with the part. Thought I was canned a half dozen times. 

By the time I got a call, Nicole and Evelyn already had a calendar set, like our acquiescence was a given. It should’ve been a warning.I’m not sure why it had seemed like a solution, a way out.That’s what we said to each other, what we believed. Or had to believe.

_It’s_ _an industry standard; everyone does it._

_ There’s a filming schedule like any job._

_ Fans never know the truth._

_ All publicity is good publicity._

_ You’ll all make a killing._

_ Trust us._

They let Liz move in and stake her claim to a chunk of the action and broadcast a prologue via IG, rounded up Lily and I in the gloom of San Sebastián to iron out some final details, set up a rigid list of times and places, an established progression of “young love,” all codified by unseen power players who clearly knew nothing about either of those terms. By the time the HFA’s rolled around in November, Armie and I were ready to sign. 

We were desperate for a way out of the maze. We thought we’d found it.

We were idiots.

Looking back, Armie has been a miracle. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the only one in all of this who is above the coating of filth that these types of arrangements paint into every pore of your skin. He has spent the last three years untangling himself from a quagmire with the measured precision of an archaeologist unearthing a delicate artifact from the bed of a dead sea, brushing off the dust from his own bones with minute strokes, ones that would not cover his children in layers of sand, his dogged determination not to fill their eyes with hard grains that would destroy the way they would see the world for the rest of their lives.

While I have flailed around in awkward street encounters, he has worked and trained and kept quiet, studiously kept his distance from me, even as his freedom grew closer, leaned on friends when I was elsewhere, obligations filling my calendar instead of my real life. And I know he would scroll through gossip columns on his phone after I’d have to ring off, though I would beg him not to do it, beg him one more time to remember that _his_ light is the only one in my eyes, that_ he_ is my sun, my only star, the warm glow of his face what I see whenever I close my eyes, even when there is a comical girl with a simple strip of fabric barely covering the cleft of her ass who kneels over me open-mouthed with a camera just across the bow of a nearby skiff, or when I’m buying bagels costumed up like a ridiculous tourist while that same girl wears my dirty clothes, a photographer angled against the wall with his camera cocked to the side so he can infuse the shots with manufactured spontaneity.

Armie sees it all, sees every humiliating bit, and lies to me about it, lies poorly because I hear it immediately in the crust of loneliness that sticks like old gum around every one of his words, in the way he avoids my eyes and holds his phone crookedly now so that I can only see him from an angle through the small rectangle of the my phone screen. “Don’t look at it, Armie.For the love of God, no matter what happens, keep your eyes _shut_.”

“That your best advice, Indiana Jones?” _Better than having your face melted off by a sacrilege, which is what it feels like when anyone but you touches me._ A sad chuckle, a deflation of lungs. “You think it can’t hurt me if I don’t look at it? I don’t have to look, Tim.Just knowing is enough.My mind can do the rest. You know me.”

And his sad smile pulls me closer to the phone, makes me bump my nose along the lightning jack in a mute effort to get him to raise his gaze to mine. I do know him, I know how her constant acid has already softened the bones of his confidence, how he doubts every second who he is and if he’s worth anything, how he would die on a thousand swords for anyone but himself. I want to let him see my plea for what it is, that I am naked before him in every sense of the word, that I hide nothing from the ancient blue of his eyes which strip me clean of every possible defense.“Armie…”_You’re it, just you, just as you were in the long rustling grass of Italy’s green fields with an easy smile golden on your lips, just as you are at this very moment_. “Please?”

And when he finally looks up, I see him, too, just as naked, just as raw. There’s nothing left in between us but three thousand miles of ocean.

“You feel it, right? Tell me you do, tell me you know. Tell me.”

And his face relaxes, misery melting at the crinkle of his eyes, the upward curl of his lips. “I know, Tim,” he whispers.“I know.”

His head flops back against his pillow, and the scene shifts crazily until I can see his face against the dusky backdrop of his headboard, the white sheen of the pricey hotel linens making his skin glow a soft tan. He holds me up above him with one hand while the other scratches at the fur over his breastbone, and I feel a burn in my windpipe.He’s more relaxed now, heavy lids and warm skin, and if I close my eyes, I can taste his neck when its salty with sweat, run my thumb along the silk of skin at the juncture of his hip and thigh.

_Jesus_.

I fold an arm behind my head and shift down so I’m laying flat, one leg bent to hold the phone up, one falling against the back of the couch. Muted traffic somewhere below my window hums a syncopated rhythm, the only noise I hear when my eyes refocus and we just stare at each other, smiles growing as our thoughts meld. His face undulates gently as I breathe.It looks like he is staring up at me from between my legs, and the thought drags a soft moan from my belly.

“Where’ve you been all day, anyway?” his tone is soft, playful.

“Around. Will an’ G. are coming to the premiere. We…we’ve got a little _thing_ planned.” My eyebrows flicker, and a tooth sinks slowly into one side my bottom lip.

His thumb twitches into view, drags across the screen like it’s trying to wipe it away, and my tongue flicks out as if to grab it. “Tease,” he huffs.His arm drags down his chest and disappears from view.When I see his mouth fall open, hear his soft gasp, I feel lightheaded. I miss him so much, I could come from that alone.I grab myself, squeeze slightly, try to get back a thread of the control that I’ve already lost to him.

“Are you…_Tim…_” He swallows, fogs a breath. “You…you gonna be good?” 

His voice is unsteady, and it makes my hips twitch. He’s staring at me with wide eyes, and I nod dumbly.“Yeah.” I lick my lips, leave them dripping wet, want him to lap them dry, suck off the droplet of it before it runs down my chin onto my throat. “Promise…_good_…I. Can be. Good.”

His scruff, and his tousled hair, and the low groan that ghosts from his lips while his eyes stay fixed on me. I’m so hard each stroke feels electrified, and the way his neck tendons distort through the camera, I can almost convince myself it’s his hand on me, careful and demanding, a slick and sloppy dream I’ve had more times than I can count.

I stare back at him, and his eyes are a cocoon, so I let them hold me while the rest of the world blurs and I drink in his low rumble, how it splutters when I inch closer to the edge, and I whimper, bite my lip hard to try to hold on, keep my eyes open for it all.

“That’s it…oh…oh _fuck_ yeah…” His voice is mahogany velvet. “Yes, always…good, always so good…for me…”

I’m gone. I feel my whole body clench, eyes squeezing shut as my torso curls up, distantly hear the sound of my own cry around the rush of blood in my ears. The phone falls flat onto my stomach, and I slap at it, snatch it up with shivering fingers, panting at the screen, crawling back into his hungry gaze. Armie’s eyebrows are pinched, and he’s so close now.I hold the phone up and deliberately drag my ruined hand across my mouth, lick at my sticky fingers with a fat, languorous tongue.

His eyes widen and he slams his head into his pillow, and he finally lets go, a strangled version of my name wriggling from his throat easily one of the best sounds I’ve ever heard. The screen wobbles in all directions, and his lengthening pants get deafening as he jostles his limbs around to grab a handful of tissues from the nightstand.He lays me face down on his chest while he cleans himself up.

I reach blindly for a shirt from the pile of them on the floor, and I feel a zip of exhilaration when the one I snag is that green jersey from the other day, the one they’d messaged back to me neatly laundered after Lily’d used it to walk our worn path in and out of the bagel shop. It repulsed me, so I’d almost trashed it, but instead I crumpled it into a ball and threw it across the room, trudged over it in my shoes for days until it had been covered up by other discards.I wipe my fingers viciously on it, hope it stains, wish it was Armie’s biology I was smearing into the collar so hard that it would become chemically bonded to the fabric.

I hear a heavy sigh through the speaker and hold up the phone to his sweet, tired face, and this time, the smile slips easily onto his lips. “Hey there.”

“Hey.”

“So much for behaving yourself.”

My eyebrows pull down over my nose. “Behave?What in the…You never said—“ I shove my tongue into my cheek, swipe it across my top teeth. “Ohhh.Well, you see, for _me_, ‘be good’ and ‘behave yourself’ are two very different concepts.”

A dark chuckle that makes my lips numb. “Thank God.”

I roll onto my side, cup the phone in both hands. “What are you doing tonight?”

His lips pucker. “Mmm…might look at a couple of upcoming scenes, ones I want to rethink…probably get some room service or something.”

“Sounds good. You know what you’re going to do Wednesday night?”

His head ticks to the side. “What?”

I tilt my head forward until my forehead taps the screen. “_Me_.”

He laughs, laughs like Armie, _my_ Armie, full and content and guileless. It loosens my joints, like its an elixir I’ve needed to keep my body from breaking down and giving up entirely. _I need him_. Bone deep, soaked through. I clench the phone tight along its edges. The urge to kiss him burns in my chest.

He settles, watches me, smile lingering on his lips. “What do I do until then?”

“Miss me.”

His smile abstracts, and I want to punch myself. “No problem there.”

“Yeah.” I pinch my lips together. Tears are never far from me these days, it seems.

Armie’s large hand covers his face, scrubs up and down, pushes into his hair. “Look, I really need to go, so please…take care of yourself.It’s ten days, right? We can do that.”He tries to smile again, and it’s brittle at first, but I get it.Neither of us wants to leave the other feeling that emptiness. Neither of us wants the desolation to win.

So I smile, too, feel my cheeks push into the couch cushion. “You kidding?We got this.”

“I love you.”

“You do?” I lick my lips.

“Kinda.”

“Sorta?”

“Maybe.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, _fine_. I love you, too, then.”

“I knew you’d come around.”

I hover my fingertips over the screen to touch his face, try to memorize the pattern in his eyes. “Later, Armie.”

His fingers loom large, parallel with mine. “Later.”

* * *

“Mom.”

“What, Tim? You really expect me to participate in this farce? All of you are nuts.That’s what I think--you’ve all lost it!”

It’s already way after 6:00. People are starting to arrive. We don’t have time for this right now. My jaw clenches.“You _have_ to, Mom. You know you have no choice.”

When my dad covers his face, I know I’ve fucked up.

Mom catapults from her seat. “What did you say to me?I’m not sure I got that--I _what_? Let’s review: I didn’t sign a single thing; that means I don’t have to do a single thing I don’t want to do.” She paces around the small green room, steam rising from her skin. “I still can’t believe you got messed up in this thing, Tim, I really can’t. And _that man_…” She means Brian. She hasn’t used his actual name since she learned about the contract. “That man should never have allowed this to get this far, and if he had done _his _job properly, it wouldn’t have. It’s _outrageous_!”

Paulie tosses me a sympathetic look, then clears her throat. “Look, Ma, we all know this is bullshit.”Mom whirls around to her, but Paulie’s tone is flat, and she regards our mother’s explosive passion with calm detachment. “You think Timmy doesn’t hate this?Try again.He’s the one who’s had to deal with this every day.”

“He didn’t _have_ to deal with this, he _chose_ to deal with this! I didn’t, and I don’t know how anyone can expect me to—“

“To what? Support your kid?” Pauline is pure steel.

Mom’s face contorts with horror. “Of course I _support_ him!” She glances at me, and just that quickly, her shoulders sag. Dad steps forward and wraps his arm around her.She leans against him. When she sniffs quietly, I want to crawl in a hole.In twenty-three years, I’ve not developed any conceivable defense against my mother’s tears.

I wipe my nose. “I’m hoping this will all be over soon, I really do.” I look at Paulie, run my hand through my hair, and exhale hard. “Armie, too.It’s been…it’s been pretty hard on both of us.”

I hear a small gasp, and my mom drifts forward and throws her arms around me. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”I squeeze my eyes shut, fold down and hug her tight. She rubs my back with a strong hand.“You boys…you should be happy, and I…that’s all I want.” She leans back and grabs my cheeks with both hands.“You deserve to be together, sweetheart.You both deserve to get everything you want.”

“We’re trying,” I whisper. I open my eyes and see my dad watching us with a quiet smile. He steps over and kisses the side of my head, then my mom’s, wraps a warm arm around us both.

For the first time in a very long time, my chest feels lighter.

“GROUP HUG!” Paulie shouts and launches herself at us like she’s trying to bellyflop into a mosh pit. I wonder what we must look like, our crazy little clump of humanity, staggering around the room like it’s the worst dance party in history, clutching at each other and giggling like fools.

I don’t care. We’re Chalamets. This is how we are, and it feels fucking great.

* * *

I keep busy, and I’m happy to. After all the doors I’d lurked around as a kid, pacing the street with a Sharpie in my hand, it still knocks me out that people would line up for hours to see _me_, to see one of _my_ films, and I’d hug every damn one of them if I could and invite them all home for dinner. Maybe when I’m older, if I’m lucky enough to have done this for decades, I’ll have a more casual attitude toward this kind of thing. Probably not.Rule number one: never forget where you come from.

I give Will a high-five as he moves past me with his bag of goodies and wait as long as I can, wait for her to go out first and make her way down the line of fans, hope she actually acknowledges them. I still can’t tell if she loves them or hates them.I think it depends on whether her makeup is to her satisfaction, but then, I have never cared enough to find out.

I can see them gathered in the foyer, my mom vibrating next to my dad, shoving popcorn in her face like it’s going out of style. I smirk.Whatever keeps her teeth from grinding themselves to pulp, I guess.Dad smiles amiably, greets Jessica, then turns to chat with Lily as well. I’ve no doubt he’ll address her in French, simply to try to make her more comfortable.That’s his way, and after my mother hugged her stiffly like she’s headed to the gallows, he would definitely want to soften the blow. That, and the mafia stare-down Mom’s got going on, side-eye style, as she destroys that popcorn one oversized puff at a time.

I have to clamp the inside of my cheek when Paulie arrives. Shrieking and throwing herself on Lily like she’s the incarnation of all four Beatles is so over-the-top it just might sell. Lily mirrors her, and I roll my eyes.Must’ve been a few clicks too far for Mom who just _has_ to find a trash can immediately before the world ends with her holding an empty paper bag.

It’s close to 8:00 when my phone buzzes:

_ Tell me you didn’t._

Ok, I didn’t... OR DID I??? 

_ Bagels? That was your plan? BAGELS??_

😇🤪🥯

_ You’re insane._

Dude, NY peeps get haannngryyyy!!!

_ How long before Brian murders you?_

Not with Momma around…

_ How’s the clan doing? _ 😬

About how you’d think. But PAULINE!

_ Gotta love her._

_ Or she’ll stab you in your sleep_.

Truth!

_ See you soon?_

Not soon enough. 

_ Come in the nude_.

Good plan—less mess.

_ Oh brother_…

You love it and you know it.

_ Fuck yes_

_ I do_

* * *

One more hour.

That’s it.

Joel had insisted that I come. That’s fine, I get it.The whole cast, him included, are good people, so I didn’t mind it much. But I’m leaving right from here for the airport.Getting to England is all I can think about.

The chair next to me slumps as a collection of limbs collapses into it. “What’re you doing over here?”

I stare straight ahead. “Trying to enjoy myself.So much for that.”

“Are you always this much of a dick?” The words slur at the ends.What a surprise. She’s been slamming down vodka tonics on Joel’s lap for the last two hours.

“What can I say? Being around you has brought out a whole new side of me.”

“Give it a rest, Nancy. Je-sus.”

I sigh, slump back in my seat. “Will you please just leave me alone?”

“Your family…” And I look at her sharply. _Give me a reason_. But she doesn’t even seem to be paying attention to me. “They seem nice.”She shrugs.“They were nice to me.”

She actually sounds shy about it, like she’s somehow revealed an embarrassing secret. I just nod. 

“Your sister’s really pretty, too.”

“Believe me, she knows.”

Lily huffs a laugh. “They…they really seem to love you.”

“Don’t hold it against them.” I blow a stream of air through my nostrils, slump forward and take a sip of my Jack and Coke. “They mean well.”

“Yeah…” Her voice sounds distant. “At least they show up.”

I look over at her. She’s leaning her chin on her palm, drawing designs on the table top from the condensation lining her glass. I can’t believe that I’d never thought of it before.For all the obligations we’ve had for this film, her family hasn’t been at any of them. Not one of them has taken the time to come to any appearances for her.And I try to imagine my own parents not wanting to come to an event for me, especially if it were in one of the first roles to have the chance to get me some amplification to a broader audience. You couldn’t keep them away if you tried.My mother would chew through handcuffs and swim an ocean for Pauline _and_ me.

For the first time, it occurs to me that the pouty rudeness and shallow frivolity that I’ve buffeted for months could have its roots in a very mundane truism: she who craves the spotlight lives life in her own shadows. ‘Pampered’ doesn’t always equate to ‘loved’.

No wonder she seemed so drawn to Liz. Familiar territory.

Suddenly, Joel barks a laugh at something David has said, and Lily watches him for a while, a small smile curling her lips.

“So…do you actually _love_ him?”

She winces. “Look, don’t give me shit about the age difference, I mean—“

“Why do I care how old he is? _Do you love him_?”

Her head tilts down. “He’s a great guy.He’s been good to me.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Her eyes slip over to me, a sharp retort at the ready, but then her gaze falls. “Not for sure yet.Maybe, though.”

“He feel the same?”

A shy smirk. “Maybe.”

“Good. That’s good.” I clink my glass with hers. “And, yeah, he_ is_ a great guy. I hope it works out. For both of you.”

She flushes. “Thanks.”

I look at my watch. 35 more minutes.

We’re silent for a stretch, let the buzz of the room fill the gap, but eventually she glances over at me. “So…do _you_ actually love him?”

I turn my head slowly and lock eyes with her. “More than even a dreamer like me would have thought possible.” 

She raises her eyebrows and purses her lips, giving me a slow nod and a low whistle. “Wow.You really mean it, too.”

“I’d do anything for him. Anything.And I know he feels the same, or you and I would never be sitting here together right now. _That’s_ how much we…” I twitch my eyes away before they start to burn with the same stale anger.

Her lids droop, heavy with the false lashes, and she clunks her head against the wall behind us. “I never…look, I’m sorry.I guess I never really thought about what it must be like for you.I just thought you were being an asshole for the hell of it.”

I snort. “Ditto.”

Her voice softens. “And…I’m sorry for what I said before. You know, about Armie.My dad had told me that he’s really a stand-up guy, and…and he was super polite to me in Canada when he didn’t really have to be. I was…I just…”

I wave my hand. “Yeah, I know, I know. Forget it.I’m sorry, too. Really.I’ve been a complete prick lately, and you didn’t deserve any of it. It’s stupid to be blaming you.I mean, it’s not your fault that...that...”

“That what? That I’m not him?”

My face feels like Jello, and a sludge of guilt twists my lips up. “I guess so.” 

She stares at me for a moment, and I think she’s about to lambaste me. I just press my feet to the floor and wait.I figure I have it coming.

But then she smirks. “Ditto.”

I grin, and after far too many months, we finally share a laugh. I wipe my palm on my pant leg and hold it out to her.“Truce?”

She smiles and takes my hand, gives it one solid shake. Then, she picks up her glass.“Hey, wait. Shouldn’t you have said _tregua_?”

“Don’t push it, Depp.”

* * *

I never quite get used to the flashes. They’re a field of lightning bugs on a summer night that’s painted up in hues to rival any autumn morning. It’s dizzying, and I’ve never quite worked out how to look directly at them without ending up caught in a spotted blind.

At least it is easier to smile this time. Damn near impossible not to, in fact.

Joel and I pivot together, and his hand comes up around my waist “Seems like it’s going great so far, you think?” I say to him.“London always has a really good crowd.”

“The best,” he returns. “Good thing, too.You deserve it, Tim, you really do.”

I glance at him, “We all do.” My hand rests on his shoulder blade. “We’ve all had to fight for this.”

I knew he wouldn’t miss the layers there. His eyes rove between mine before he leans closer to my ear. “I know you and Lil have had a time of it the last few months. Can’t blame ya one bit.Sorry you ended up in this mess with us. I know it’s been shite for both of you.”He rolls his head away for a moment, smiles and nods to some of the cameras. “I worry about her constantly, you know, worry about how she’ll be seen…”His eyes are soft, and the conflict within them is deep. He pats my side.“Thanks for...for all of it.”

My smile clicks up a few notches. So many of the blindspots that had plagued me feel worn away.

We start to move apart when he lifts his chin. “Hey, sorry your fella couldn’t make it tonight. Fuck, you guys woulda murdered half this crowd!”

I laugh. “Yeah, that would’ve been….” I just shake my head and shrug.

He nods, backing away in the direction David’s gone. “Soon, mate.Soon.”

* * *

The red light blinks again.

I hate these fucking key cards.

I jam it in again and rip it out.

Red.

_Fuck this_. I kick the door viciously, drawing a startled glare from a member of the hotel’s cleaning staff down the hall. “Sir…”

There’s a scraping behind the door. It creaks open on hesitant hinges.

“Timmy?” The voice is soft and sleepy, a column of dim light enveloping it. “Is something—“

I shove inside the door and actually knock him back a few steps, kick the door closed without a second glance. I run.Run to him, push my cheek against his chest and clutch at him, fisting my hands behind his back.I need to hear it again, the steady beat there, the bellows of his lungs as they expand, the gurgle of his surprised chuckle as it diffuses through the membrane of his cells and vibrates my skin.

“Hello to you too,” he murmurs into my hair, rubbing his face in a circle on my scalp, tugging at the strands with a deep sigh.

I open my mouth to talk, but I don’t. I’d only choke on my tears.The last two days had been hell. Forced to a cast dinner I didn’t want to attend, just so some fucking pictures could broadcast our lies to the same weary audience? Snap my hood, motherfuckers; that’s all you’re getting.Forced to cope with his gaping absence at my side on the red carpet?It should have been our moment, our chance to strike back with a truth I can barely keep contained anymore.

He’d arrived here while I was at the screening. I put in a few fidgety minutes at the after party and practically sprinted out of the venue, leaving Brian huffing and puffing in my wake. “Tell them I’m sick or something.Whatever you want.I don’t give a shit.But I am _done_ for the day.” I’d thrown it over my shoulder to him, brushed past the stunned security guy, and climbed in the car waiting at the corner.

On the way to the hotel, I’d gripped my phone tight on the edges, this time until its screen had smoked over. I turned it off.

I make myself ease my grip on him, loosen enough to tilt my face back to look at him.

Long scruff, edge of a mustache. Hair shaped lazily by finger strokes. Dark hemispheres under the eyes of a Caribbean sea. Tuft of chest hair peaked above the rim of his t-shirt. Lips curved with a simple joy.My journey’s end, my welcome home.

“How long are you mine?” he whispers.

I thud him against the wall with my chest, lean right up to his mouth and pry it open with my tongue, crawl inside of it when his jaw loosens, when his tongue goes under mine and drags it deeper, when his hands cup my face, my skull, drinking me in, all the way in where I’m safe.

A breath, lips still around one of his. “How long do you want me?”

“That can’t be measured with a clock.”

I seize his waist. “Done.”

And we don’t talk much after that.

He lays me down with hands that move slowly, move constantly, strip layers of clothes and miles and fears. His tongue walks itself up the line of my inner thigh, palms warm on my ribcage, slick fingers dipping into my cleft, massaging away the boundaries and leaving searing need in their wake. My hands snatch through his hair, grab the pillow on either side of my head and try to keep my writhing from bunching up the sheets and dragging me off the bed.

He shudders when he’s inside me, bows his spine and raises closed eyes to the ceiling. I stare at him, pray to him, bear down with force to get him deeper.I want to feel his thrusts against my ribs, pressing into my lungs, wringing the blood from my heart. And I do, I feel it all, feel it every time he looks at me, drips honey in my ear as deep moans and breathless curses, wraps a skillful hand around me in perfect time with his hips and his face slackens, like every surge of my desperate pleasure really belongs to him.

It’s all his.

When I come for him, when I lose everything I have and slick the way between us, he lifts his hand and rubs it on his cheeks, sucks it from his fingers with a pained cry, and I grab his hand and press it to my throat, curl my hips higher, make his steady rhythm rush itself over the cliff until he is wrung out and utterly spent.

He rolls us, lays me on top of him, and I kiss his eyelids, drag my teeth across the crust of me in his beard while his oozes out of me and down his leg to the mattress. I want it all to dry there permanently, for my clothes to stick to me for weeks because of it while the indents from his fingernails chafe along the seams of my pants.Tangible reminders of pure bliss.

“What’s next for you?” he whispers into my skin, mouthing kisses along my hairline.

“Evening flight to Seoul.”

“Yeah? No appearances to make?”

“Not anymore.”

“How’d you engineer that?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s done, and I’m not leaving here until I head to Heathrow.”

A purr from his chest, and he squeezes me tighter. I can hear his thoughts whir like an old movie projector. “It aches, Tim,” he finally says.“Constantly aches.Is it ever going to stop?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“We’re almost there, Armie.” I raise my head, kiss the corners of his mouth to punctuate my words. “Almost. There.Are you ready for that?”

His nostrils flair, and he massages the back of my neck. “I’m ready._God_ am I ready for this!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many beats of this story that are derived from images and videos that have appeared of birthday parties, bagel walks, and film premieres in New York and London. Images of Tim looking miserable in Spain in September 2018 (Bless you, onlyastoryteller!) and Armie and Tim looking loving yet awkward at the HFA's in November 2018 were also instrumental.
> 
> The advice Tim gives to Armie about pictures is what Indiana Jones offers up to Marion Ravenwood in _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ to allow them to survive the Nazis opening the Ark and unleashing the wrath of God.


	2. Epilogue:  Undelivered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tim leaves, Armie writes to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect this, but here it is.
> 
> Because they never stop.
> 
> Who says text messages can't be a love poem in disguise?

“Hey, I know you’re probably back on set,” his voice is a heated murmur, like he’s stolen a moment in the rush of arrival. “Keep killing it there, I know you will...you always do..” He sucks in a sharp breath. “Damn, Armie, I feel like--shit, just one day, _ one day, _ and I feel like this is all new for me. You..._Jesus_, that’s just what I needed... _ you _ again…just you...” There’s wonder in his voice, in the soft chuckle that bubbles up. “Listen, I know there really won’t be time to talk for a few days, and my reception is shit here, so...well...even if I don’t get them right away, can you text me? Ok? Please? I just want to know you’re,” a cough, “you’re _ out there_. Does that make any sense? The time difference sucks, but... can you just..._write_ to me? Is that crazy? I know it’s crazy. But will you?” There are voices around him, static. “Fuck, I gotta go. Love you...love you so _much_.”

Will I?

Tim.

The only crazy thing is that you thought you had to ask.

I’m always here for you,

there with you 

anywhere

The sweater looks better on you

Knew it would, you should keep it.

Softness suits you

let me wear it after

to sleep in your imprint

your cloud 

The peace in your gaze, Timmy… 

Rocks me

What do you see? What captures you 

out there in the waves?

What thoughts spill out when the words

stay inside?

I bet you can see what isn’t there

underwater

where all the life is

you did with me

need that peace right now

Sea spray makes your hair curl

Deadly

SHIT

And how did you know about my paint kink??

(Tyler’s a dead man)

Just the idea of

Fingerpainting

on your white skin

all chiseled planes, rounded

Marked

in my streaked prints.

I’m in

if you are.

Ok.

No. 

You know how I feel about that.

Bugs the size of sanitation trucks?

NOPE.

Enough. Of. That.

Finger hearts were made for your hands.

Your fingers bend

me

with ease

Bracelets make your wrist look

fragile 

Like I could break you

or I will

crack under their spell

Listening to you

on a break

just to hear you.

Your radio voice is pornographic

did they tell you that?

Lips are the softest part of the body

fuck you 

that rolled off your tongue like an incantation

why don’t you just murder me?

Dogs know what’s up

Instinct

Scent is powerful 

and so what if I sniff your butthole

pucker

up

And cat tongues strip meat off their kill;

they lick to prepare you for consumption

so do I.

Offering up “Weeks of Pensive Sorrow” as my next song rec

Your lips

My music

How did you see that??

HOW

Screens and cameras and shrill screams

You did it,

you found us in

all that chaos

held me up in a pinch

of two fingers

to show everyone 

you found us again.

Fringe. Pants.

Lip gloss

Pristine white T

<and my teeth marks around your navel>

my secret

for now

Can’t watch you at the airport

can’t watch you walk away

again

Quiet here tonight.

Did you know you make a sound?

Did I ever tell you?

Your body

is a harmony

It’s how you fill every space

like a movement I feel in my ears

so silence becomes loss without it.

I’m listening

hard

but I miss it already

I am missing

without

you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by various images of Tim in South Korea and a clip of his BBC radio time that I was able to listen to (thanks to blueishdesire). I hope you were able to conjure them up as you read, simply because he is a wonder to behold.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know your thoughts about this story!


End file.
